


Academic Matters

by awarrington



Series: Extracurricular Activities [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Break Up, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstanding, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awarrington/pseuds/awarrington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock thinks Kirk's a cheat in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nix_this](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nix_this/gifts).



> The events of this story follow on immediately from the story, Extracurricular Activities

The setting sun shone through the window to Spock’s office, lighting up dust motes that seemed to dance in the air, buoyed by the current flowing from the air-con system that was currently keeping his room at a pleasant 35ºC. His focus was on the console in front of him, on the most recent work handed in to him by his advanced computer sciences students.

He found reading their lines of coding fascinating, as each appeared to have their own style, like a signature, that allowed him to identify the programmer. The better the student, the more elegant the code. It was something Spock could appreciate, having spent years perfecting his own abilities in this area.

Because of his absorption in his task, he was unaware of the passing of hours, as the lights in his office increased to keep pace with the decrease in external lighting. It was only when he heard the door slide open, that he became aware of the external world for the first time in four point six hours. He maintained his focus on the screen for a further seven point seven seconds until he’d concluded parsing a particular section of coding, and the clearing of a throat pulled him reluctantly away. His time sense told him it was close to midnight.

“Good evening, Professor,” Uhura said crisply. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but I saw your office lighting was on.”

She was, but Spock understood enough of human convention to know that admitting it was poor manners. The cadet was in civilian attire and the lateness of the hour told him that this was unlikely to be an official call. So he cocked his head to one side in a gesture generally understood to say without words, _I am paying attention._.

“Cadet Uhura,” he acknowledged. “How may I be of help?”

She glanced at the floor before looking up and responding hesitantly. “I’m not here to do with coursework. I just needed to get away from my dorm for a while and didn’t know where to go. When I walked past your office and saw the light on, I figured I’d drop in, if you weren’t busy.”

Spock had seen the pattern before, where a student sought him out for extra assistance, then began to turn the visits into social calls and then the flirting usually began. In the past, he had dealt with the matter swiftly to ensure the cadet in question was left in no doubt that any romantic overtures were unacceptable and unwanted. He was prepared to do the same for Uhura, although he would begin, at least, by giving her the benefit of the doubt, considering the unusual circumstances.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

She sighed and took his question as a signal to sit down at his desk. “Not really. It’s just my room-mate’s tied up with Kirk and I’m not going to sit there and watch them go at it.”

The words acted like a physical blow. “Tied up?” he repeated.

“I don’t mean bondage, just you know, sex.”

“I see.” Though he gave no outward sign whatsoever, sitting there at his desk apparently calmly, inside he felt a churning in his stomach and an ache in his chest – physiological responses he knew that were the result of the shock he was experiencing.

Over the last four weeks, he and Jim had spent as much time as their busy schedules allowed together, and much of that was in private where he had believed they’d deepened their connection. While it had never expressly been stated, since Jim had demonstrated a keen understanding of Vulcan culture, he had believed their relationship was monogamous.

“Right. Trouble is, I don’t know if they’d just gotten started, or just finished, and I don’t want to go back until Kirk’s left – Gaila knows he can’t stay over. So I was thinking maybe you and I could go get a coffee.”

The last thing Spock wanted right then was to ingest anything. Yet if he did not accompany Uhura, she would be on her own, and while he was reluctant to join her, a sense of chivalry suggested that he should. He was not going to allow emotion to affect him, even though he felt as though something vital had just been ripped out of him.

“That would be acceptable,” he heard himself say, as though he’d become detached from his corporal self.

That night, unable to sleep, he attempted to meditate.

+

The following afternoon, Spock stood behind the one-way window looking into the simulator, sharing the small room with two test administrators and a simulator technician. While they chatted behind him, he watched as various cadets gathered for Jim’s third attempt at the Kobayashi Maru. He had never told Jim of his involvement, wanting to keep as much of his professional self out of whatever it was they had shared. When Jim inevitably failed for a third time, Spock had thought he’d need never know his lover had witnessed it.

When Uhura entered, he could see by her features and the way she sat rigidly with her arms crossed, that she did not wish to be present. The cadets who support the examinee were chosen from among those who’d already taken the test, or were on tracks where the test was not administered. In addition, the examinee had the right to request certain qualified individuals to participate, and he wondered if Jim had requested Uhura for reasons of humor, since he appeared to enjoy riling her at every opportunity.

When Jim walked in with his doctor friend, wearing his gray cadet jumpsuit which perfectly highlighted how fit and toned his body was (a body Spock had spent the previous twenty two point three days cataloguing in detail), he was quick to quell any and all physiological responses to the sight of his former lover – a relationship change Jim was as yet unaware of. They were due to meet the following evening at which time Spock would inform him of the alteration to their status.

Spock detached himself completely, so that he was simply a member of the teaching staff observing a student under examination conditions. He would acknowledge no more than that.

The exercise began as it always did, Uhura acting as communications officer, advising the captain of a distress signal, and like his first attempt, Jim crossed into the neutral zone to offer assistance.

“Two Klingon vessels have entered the neutral zone and are locking weapons on us,” said McCoy from the helm position.

“That's okay,” Jim responded.

“That’s okay?” McCoy repeated, incredulously.

“Yeah, don't worry about it.”

Spock stared at Jim’s face, attempting to read him. All the signs of stress he had shown in his two previous attempts were absent now and he couldn’t understand why.

“Did he say don't worry about it? one of the test administrators asked.

“Is he not taking the simulation seriously?” another questioned, echoing Spock’s own thoughts which were interrupted by the next stage of the simulation.

“Three more Klingon warbirds decloaking and targeting our ship,” McCoy informed Jim. “I don't suppose this is a problem either,” he added with a sarcastic tone.

“They're firing, Captain.”

“Alert medical bay to prepare to receive all crew members from the damaged ship,” Jim announced.

“And how do you expect us to rescue them when we're surrounded by Klingons, Captain,” Uhura asked, exasperation clear in her voice.

“Alert medical,” Kirk ordered again.

“Our ship’s being hit,” McCoy cut in. “Shields at sixty percent.”

“I understand,” Kirk responded nonsensically. He would be expected at the very least to order evasive maneuvers, as well as prepare to defend his ship. Spock found himself perplexed by Jim’s behavior.

“Well should we, I don't know, fire back?” McCoy asked and Spock could see the doctor was beginning to look irritated by Jim’s cavalier attitude.

“No,” Kirk responded and bit into an apple.

“Of course not,” McCoy agreed, clearly resigned.

It was at that moment that the power to the simulator appeared to fail, but after two seconds, came back online.

“What is this? What’s going on?” asked one of the administrators beside Spock. It was a good question. That Jim was sitting there so complacently had alarm bells going off in his head.

“Hmm... arm photons,” Jim orders. “Prepare to fire on the Klingon warbirds.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jim, their shields are still up,” McCoy pointed out, reasonably.

“Are they?” Jim asked.

McCoy glanced down at the screen in front of him. “No. They're not.”

Spock’s eyes flew from where he had been watching Jim, down to the monitor where all the information about the simulation’s status was displayed. McCoy was right, their shields were down. Yet that was impossible – it wasn’t one of the parameters of the programming. Knowing Jim’s computer skills, and the odd malfunction, the alarm bells got much louder.

“Fire on all enemy ships,” he heard Kirk say and glanced back up, watching him closely. “One photon each should do it, so we don't waste ammunition.”

“Target locked and acquired on all warbirds. Firing.”

Spock and the test administrators watched on incredulously as the impossible – at least according to the parameters of the program – happened, and each of the warbirds was dispatched one by one.

“All ships destroyed, Captain.”

Spock stared through the window at Jim – he’d seen that smug look on his face any number of times, usually when he was about check-mate Spock.

“Begin rescue of the stranded crew. So, we've managed to eliminate all enemy ships, no one onboard was injured, and the successful rescue of the Kobayashi Maru crew is underway.”

The simulator technician who’d been standing beside Spock throughout turned to him. “How the hell did that kid beat your test?”

Spock swallowed. “I do not know.”

That wasn’t entirely accurate. He was certain Jim had somehow cheated. Compounding his infidelity, he had now made a mockery of the test – of his simulation. Given who Jim had been with the previous evening, there was a eighty eight point two percent probability he’d gotten help from Gaila, since she had been one of three cadets in his advanced computer sciences class to input the two new routines he’d designed while on the _Reliant_. She knew all the simulator’s access codes, though he acknowledged that Jim certainly had the level of skill required to hack in without assistance and to alter the sub-routines to his benefit. However, since Spock had personally programmed in all the levels of security, he was reasonably confident it would have taken Jim some time. Gaila’s assistance would have speeded up the process.

Spock watched as Jim put his arm around McCoy’s shoulder as they left, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Uhura then seemed to collect herself from her apparent shock at the proceedings and quickly followed them out until the simulator sat empty.

The simulator technician – Pete – was already examining the code. “Someone’s hacked into the system,” he confirmed, his face clearly showing his disapproval, “and installed a sub-routine that replaced the original program.”

Beside him, Spock stared at the screen and the elegant lines of code that had so easily sabotaged his program and altered the conditions of the test to allow him to win. Jim had showed him some of the programs he’d created in his spare time and this code had Jim’s signature written all over it. He found himself wondering how long Jim had been working on this, never having so much as hinted to him that he was planning it. Judging by McCoy’s face, he had apparently also kept it from his closest friend.

“So, what now?” one of the test administrators asked.

“I will take the matter to Admiral Barnett and the disciplinary board,” Spock responded, “and bring Cadet Kirk up on a charge violating StarFleet’s Code of Conduct for academic immorality.” The leaden weight in his stomach didn’t lift with the knowledge that he would see Jim dismissed from the service for his actions.

+

Spock took his seat in the almost-filled auditorium, as final-year cadets all around him speculated why the meeting had been called. When he had informed Pike the previous day, he was clearly angry at Kirk’s actions, though he had attempted to dissuade Spock from his decision to take the matter further. As Jim’s mentor, Spock believed Pike to be somewhat culpable, having failed to discipline Jim adequately for his previous casual transgressions of StarFleet regulations and general wayward behavior. The service required personnel to follow rules and orders; without their adherence, it would descend into anarchy.

That Jim and he had shared physical intimacy for twenty three point four days was not a matter he had dwelled upon. Indeed, since the evening with Cadet Uhura, he had carefully schooled his thoughts to purge them of Jim – a logical step since he would be leaving his life permanently. Unlike humans, who frequently demonstrated a tendency to hold onto the past, he had no intention of recalling memories of their passionate love-making nor the deep mental connection they clearly shared. He accepted the Vulcan maxim: _kaiidth – what is, is_.

He watched, unobserved as Jim and McCoy took their seats near the front, on the other side of the auditorium, quelling a quickening of his heart-rate. A minute later, the Disciplinary Board took their seats and a quiet hush fell over the room.

“This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter,” Admiral Barnett began. “James T. Kirk, step forward.” Spock watched as Jim made his way to the podium, his face not giving away his thoughts. For a moment, his eyes swept over the body he had mapped, that belonged to the man he had shared such intimacy with, every scar, mole and tone of skin catalogued in his memory. Suppressing the memory, he returned his attention to the present.

“Cadet Kirk,” Barnett continued, “evidence has been submitted to this council, suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to Regulation One-Seven point three of the Starfleet Code. Is there anything you care to say before we begin, sir?”

“Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly.”

Again, Spock found himself quelling a speeding pulse and regulating his breathing as he rose from his seat. When Jim turned to look at who it was who had brought the charge, Spock discerned a momentary look of shock and utter betrayal in Jim’s eyes at seeing just who his accuser was, before it was ruthlessly quashed, his mouth forming a thin line. Nevertheless, Spock had seen it and he felt an inexplicable constriction in his chest, as though he were bound by a band that was being tightened by some external force.

“Step forward, please,” Barnett said, and as he made way down to the floor, added, “This is Commander Spock. He's one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years. Commander?”

Spock now stood only three meters from Jim. He had rehearsed what he intended to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he said, “Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine to the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test.”

There was anger in Jim’s eyes as his gazed pierced him. “Your point being?” he asked coldly.

That Jim drew attention to the fact that he had failed to make an argument in his opening statement, demonstrated how unsettled he was by the situation.

Before he could respond, Barnett stepped in. “In academic vernacular, you cheated.”

Kirk turned to his attention from the admiral back to him. “Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to. The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? You programmed it to be unwinnable.”

“Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario,” Spock pointed out. They had had many debates over the months since they’d first met and he had always found them to be satisfying. Such was not the case on this occasion – he would rather anyone was standing there, than Jim. Yet paradoxically, he felt no remorse for his decision.

“I don't believe in no-win scenarios.”

Spock was not surprised, having discovered through their chess matches, how tenacious Jim could be. It was one thing to be doggedly determined in personal matters, but to have a commander who didn’t believe he could lose was a danger to his ship and his crew. Such egoism had no place in StarFleet and only served to underscore to Spock that he had made the correct decision in bringing the matter before the board.

“Then, not only did you violate the rules, you also failed to understand the principle lesson,” he responded, tersely.

“Please, enlighten me.”

Jim was playing a game, as Spock was certain he understood it perfectly well. He would not allow Jim to feign ignorance and pulled from his arsenal the one thing that he could be certain would get a reaction.

“You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk, a captain cannot cheat death.”

“I, of all people?” Jim’s eyes flashed betrayal.

Spock swallowed. Jim was going to force him to spell it out, even though he knew from the look he’d gotten that the cadet had correctly inferred the meaning of his statement. “Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?”

Jim looked down, clearly working to reign in any emotional reaction – which a detached part of Spock approved of. At the same time, his excellent Vulcan hearing picked up gasps not just from the gathered cadets, but also from members of the board and a brief glance at Pike showed he had a deep frown of disapproval on his face.

If it was possible, when Jim glanced up, his eyes were even colder, their blue the same shade as the ice that covered Jupiter’s moon, Ganymede. “I don't think you like the fact that I beat your test.”

“Furthermore,” Spock continued, choosing to ignore the comment, “you have failed to divine the purpose of the test.”

“Enlighten me again,” Jim’s eyes sparked his anger.

“The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every StarFleet captain.”

Whatever response Jim was going to make was lost when the hearing was interrupted.

Two hours later, Spock was standing in uniform on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. Once they were underway, Pike turned to Spock.

“Mr. Spock, walk with me to the bridge briefing room.”

As soon as the door closed, Pike rounded on him. “This is off the record, Spock – just you and me. So, Jim cheated and I accepted your decision to report him to the board – even though I disagreed with it – but what the fuck were you thinking bringing his father into the argument?”

Spock was not surprised to find Pike being protective of Jim – he had seen this on a number of occasions over the last four months. “Cadet Kirk holds an unrealistic view that he cannot be bested,” Spock explained. “Should he find himself in command, there is a seventy nine point six percent probability his belief would lead to the loss of his ship and crew.”

“So you thought you’d rub his nose in it that his father faced a no-win situation and lost.”

“I am aware that Cadet Kirk resents the fact that he has lived in his father’s shadow all his life. However, he should not turn his back on the important lessons he might learn from his father’s actions and subsequent death simply because he does not wish to be reminded of him.”

“Has it occurred to you, Spock, that Jim might consider his father to have won?”

It was a subject they had never broached, so he was unaware exactly what Jim’s thoughts were beyond the fact he was fed up at everyone pointing to him as _George Kirk’s son_ , instead of seeing Jim Kirk as his own person.

“Since his father lost his life, it would be illogical to believe he had won,” he pointed out.

“But he saved eight hundred others, including Winona Kirk and Jim. While George’s life was forfeit, Jim might just be magnanimous enough to consider that was ultimately the price that needed to be paid in order to win.”

Spock had not considered that. As a Vulcan, he held to the sanctity of life, so that the fact that George Kirk had ultimately died he had regarded as a ‘loss’, not just in the immediate sense, but for his family – for his children growing up without their father. He would have to meditate on Pike’s words.

“I had not considered the situation from that perspective,” he admitted.

“It was tactless – actually in poor taste – for you to have flung that at Jim under those conditions, in front of hundreds of his classmates and – if he gets through it – his future colleagues. For that, at least, I think you owe Jim an apology.”

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me and go all super-Vulcan,” Pike chastised. “I told you this was off the record. I’m sending Alpha shift off-duty for two hours to get some rest. I’ll see you on the bridge at,” he glanced at the wall chronometer, “twenty -hundred.”

Spock sat in his quarters, trying – and failing – to attain a basic level of meditation. Not only had events over the last two days left him unsettled, but their current assignment was troubling.

They were traveling at Warp 8, the journey from Earth to Vulcan taking just twelve point two hours. Unlike the rest of the fleet, the _Enterprise_ was unofficially able to attain Warp 9, but Pike wasn’t prepared to test it on her maiden voyage with seventy two percent of her crew unqualified cadets – the helmsman’s error in failing to release the external inertial dampener, a demonstration of their inexperience. So ‘maximum warp’ had officially been set to the standard 8 until such time that her higher warp capability could be safely tested.

It was unfortunate, as the greater speed would have allowed them to arrive three hours earlier, which would have been his preference. He was uncertain whether it was the almost unheard-of seismic activity on Vulcan, or the disturbance in his parental bond that he detected once attempting to meditate in his quarters, that gave him a sense of foreboding. Having detected it, he spent an hour attempting to strengthen the signal of the bond, but without success.

Though it was an emergency, he broke with protocol to make a personal transmission to his father: the cause was sufficient. “Lieutenant Anderlecht,” he said, addressing the communications officer on the bridge from the console at his desk, “input the code I have transmitted to you for a sub-space call to Vulcan Central.”

“Aye sir, one moment.”

Spock sat back and waited for the familiar logo of Vulcan’s communications system to appear and after a minute, began to frown. Just as he was about to call the bridge, the lieutenant got back to him.

“Sir, I can’t get through to Vulcan. I’ve tried every channel and there’s no answer.”

“Understood,” Spock said, standing swiftly. Two minutes later he was back on the bridge to find that though Pike had ordered everyone to take a break, he himself had elected not to. It was illogical as he needed the same amount of rest as any other Human in order to perform at his peak.

“Is it possible that some kind of gravitational force caused by the seismic activity could have knocked out communication systems?” Pike asked him as he stepped out of the elevator, unsurprised at seeing his early return to duty. Clearly Anderlecht had informed Pike of the lack of communication from Vulcan.

“Negative. I will use long-range sensors to ascertain the nature of the disturbance.” The lieutenant manning his station stood to one side as he took his seat and began to input the data necessary for the scans. After ten minutes of calibrating and recalibrating the scanners, he gave up his attempt as fruitless.

“I am unable to retrieve any relevant data, Captain,” he said, standing beside Pike. “It would appear the sensors cannot accurately scan that sector of space.”

Pike frowned. “Any idea why?”

“Negative sir.”

“Speculation?”

It was against Spock’s nature to speculate in the absence of hard evidence, and while he might protest, he knew Pike would insist on it. “I cannot discern a cause for sensors’ failure, however, I believe that there is an eighty one point six percent probability that there is a link between it and the communication black-out.”

“Understood.”

Twenty three minutes later, the remainder of Alpha shift returned to their positions and the atmosphere in the bridge was tense.

At one tenth of a lightyear to destination, Pike ordered a status update.

“Engines at maximum warp, Captain,” Sulu confirmed.

“Russian whiz kid, what's your name?” Pike asked. “Chenko, Chirpoff?”

“Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, sir.”

Spock had not met the Russian navigator before, though he’d heard from other Academy instructors of his prodigious abilities.

“Fine, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, begin shipwide mission broadcast.”

As the broadcast was made, Spock remained focused on the ship’s sensor readings, the data remaining frustratingly scrambled. Two minutes later, the turbolift doors opened.

“Captain!”

Spock swiveled in his chair in shock at the voice of the last person he thought to see running onto the bridge, his face flushed and sweating.

“Jim, no!” McCoy shouted. Spock wasn’t even aware of standing as he joined the group.

“Captain Pike, we have to stop the ship!” Jim said.

“Kirk, how the hell did you get on board the _Enterprise_?” Pike demanded to know.

“Captain,” McCoy cut in. “This man's under the influence of a severe reaction of a Melvaran flea vaccine, completely delusional...” That explained to Spock his appearance.

“Bones, Bones...” Jim interrupted his friend.

“I take full responsibility,” the doctor added.

Spock was close enough to Jim to feel the heat emanating from his body, though he quickly squelched any reaction to it. He noticed the cadet was pointedly not looking at him, though he himself was unable to take his eyes off Jim.

“Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster,” Kirk said. “It's being attacked by Romulans.”

There was a moment of incredulous silence before Pike found his voice. “Romulans? Cadet Kirk, I think you've had enough attention for one day. McCoy take him back to medical, we'll have words later.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Look, sir, that same anomaly...” Jim began.

“Mister Kirk...” Pike said more forcefully.

“Mister Kirk,” Spock stated calmly, “is not cleared to be aboard this vessel.”

Finally Jim turned to him. “Look, I get it, you're a great orator. I'd love to do it again with you too.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed at the obvious sarcasm before he turned to Pike. “I can remove the Cadet...”

“Try it!” Kirk said, taunting him. “This Cadet is trying to save the bridge.”

“By recommending a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?” Spock said, knowing how ridiculous that sounded.

“It's not a rescue mission, listen, it's an attack.”

Spock had been ignoring the growing unease he had been feeling for the last few hours – the seismic activity, the communication black-out, the sensors’ inability to scan the planet – yet no-one, not even Romulans, would dare to enter the heart of Federation space and attack Vulcan. The thought left him unsettled, so he focused on facts, not speculation. First, it would require an entire armada of ships; second, it was impossible they could have gotten so far, undetected; third, the Romulans did not possess the level of technology required to jam all communications and sensors; and fourth, how could a mere cadet who had likely been in sickbay since their departure, judging by the state of him, and was clearly reacting adversely to medication, know all this when none of the bridge crew, with all their sophisticated equipment, was aware of it? Logically, Jim was in error and he need to prove that.

“Based on what facts?” Spock demanded to know, determined to prove him wrong.

“That same anomaly, a lightning storm in space that we saw today, also occurred on the day of my birth, before a Romulan ship attacked the USS Kelvin.” Spock took in his words and the feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as Kirk turned to Pike. “You know that, sir, I read your dissertation. That ship which had formidable and advanced weaponry was never seen or heard from again. The Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space and at twenty-three hundred hours last night, there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon warbirds destroyed by a Romulan, sir. It was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one massive ship.”

Pike’s eyes were wide. “And you know of this Klingon attack how?”

It was Uhura, who much to Spock’s surprise, spoke up. “Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate.”

Spock was taken-aback by this admission, as Uhura had not mentioned it to him the previous night – though it may have been because she had likely used unorthodox methods to obtain the data, which would explain why there had been no official intel bulletin about it.

“We're warping into a trap, sir,” Kirk added. “The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that.”

Uhura’s evidence, on top of everything else, was compelling. “The cadet's logic is sound,” Spock reluctantly admitted. “And Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in xenolinguistics; we would be wise to accept her conclusion.”

Pike turned to the communication station. “Scan Vulcan space, check for any transmissions in Romulan.” It was a sound order. They had been attempting to get through the block on communication at the planet itself, not listening out for other sub-space messages in the vicinity. If the unthinkable really were happening and his home planet was under enemy attack, it would explain why the sensors signals were also failing to give readings, since they would want to hide the fact of their existence.

“Sir, I'm not sure I can distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan,” Anderlecht admitted.

Pike turned to Uhura. “What about you? Do you speak Romulan, Cadet?”

“All three dialects, sir.” Spock detected no note of smugness in her voice, simply a statement of fact.

Pike nodded. “Uhura, relieve the lieutenant.”

“Yes sir.”

Anderlecht stood to one side as Uhura took his seat and began to scan. The tension on the silent bridge was palpable, and for the first time, Spock understood the curious idiom, ‘to cut the air with a knife’.

“Hannity, hail the USS Truman,” Pike ordered. The ship would be just ahead of them and could verify Jim’s claims.

“All the other ships are out of warp, sir, and have arrived at Vulcan,” there was a pause before she added, “but we seemed to have lost all contact.”

Pike frowned and looked at Kirk.

“Sir,” Uhura added, “I pick up no Romulan transmission, or transmission of _any kind_ in the area.”

Regardless of what was happening on the planet, they should have had contact with the other fleet ships in the vicinity. Spock’s concern continued to mount, though he remained outwardly stoic.

“It's because they're being attacked,” Kirk said.

It was clearly the deciding factor, as Pike said, “Shields up, red alert.”

“Arrival in Vulcan in five seconds... four... three... two...”

The view on the screen was one of absolute devastation, the debris of destroyed ships floating grotesquely all around them.

“Emergency evasive!” Pike ordered.

“Running sir.”

Such was the extent of the carnage, it was impossible to avoid, as the _Enterprise_ collided with gigantic pieces of detritus, once part of StarFleet’s finest starships.

“Damage report,” Pike said.

“Deflector shields are holding.”

“All stations. Engineer Olson, report. Full reverse, come about starboard ninety degrees, drop us underneath and...”

The sight on the screen cut Pike’s words off as the massive ship that had decimated the fleet hove into view for the first time. Spock estimated it to be some ten kilometers in length – over ten times the size of the _Enterprise_.

And so began the events of the worst day of Spock’s life.


	2. Chapter 2

That Pike made Jim First Officer defied belief and his estimation of the captain’s abilities and judgment plummeted. As for Jim, despite a sense of utter betrayal, Spock sat on the edge of his seat throughout his and Sulu’s attempts to disable the drill. He may have lost all respect for the cadet, but that didn’t preclude him from wishing his safe return from his mission.

However, when Chekov announced the Romulans’ intensions with regard Vulcan – creating a singularity – his focus switched to his parents and his desire to save them…together with the rest of the planet’s elders who held so much of Vulcan’s culture between them. If he couldn’t save the planet, then he would attempt to save the essence of his people.

He was barely aware of Jim’s safe arrival back in the transporter room as he prepared to beam down to the surface, with Jim shouting at him, “Are you nuts? You can’t go down there!”

He would never forget the carnage he witnessed as his planet began to break up before him, nor the sight of his mother falling as the ground gave way. And on the ship, after beam-up, the psychic scream of virtually the entirety of his species dying, almost paralyzed him.

When Uhura followed him off the bridge into the turbolift and offered him comfort in the form of a hug, still in shock, he initially accepted it. Inside him was a maelstrom of emotion that he was fighting to maintain control over, which was at best, tenuous.

The one person guaranteed to break through his control was Jim. In order to maintain it, he began to act on pure logic. When he and Jim began to argue on the bridge over the next course of action, Spock had no choice if he was to do his duty as acting captain, but to remove him from the bridge. A memory surfaced of a conversation he had had some months earlier with Pike about Jim’s abilities – that he didn’t know a brig that could hold him. In that case, it was entirely logical that Spock remove Jim from the ship.

He was aware of Jim’s tenacity, but even he underestimated the cadet’s capability when he inexplicably reappeared on the ship, while at warp, thereby defying the laws of physics as they were understood.

“We're traveling at warp speed. How did you manage to beam aboard this ship?” Spock demanded to know.

“You're the genius, you figure it out.”

The note of contempt in his voice was clear. Spock would not put up with such insubordination. “As Acting Captain of this vessel, I order you to answer the question.”

“Well I'm not telling, Acting Captain. What did... what, now, that doesn't frustrate you, does it? My lack of cooperation. That, that doesn't make you angry?”

Even as Jim said the words, Spock could feel the emotions barely held in check, roaring inside him and he knew he had to somehow hold on – everyone on the ship – on Earth – was counting on him. He turned instead to Jim’s sodden companion.

“Are you a member of Starfleet?”

“I.. um.. yes. Can I get a towel, please?”

“Under penalty of court martial, I order you to explain to me how you were able to beam aboard this ship while moving at warp.”

“Well...” the man began, but much to Spock’s frustration, Jim interrupted him.

“Don't answer him.”

At the forefront of his emotions, warring with his grief was anger, and it threatened to crumble his control. “You will answer me.”

“I'd rather not take sides,” the man responded.

“What is it with you, Spock? Hmm?” Jim said, crowding him. “Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you're not even upset.”

He was Vulcan and controlled his emotion – it didn’t mean he didn’t at times feel it and he thought that Jim understood that. When they had been intimate, he had occasionally allowed Jim a glimpse of this and now he was attempting to use it against him, to incite an emotional reaction.

In an instant, he was transported back to his school days, to the bullies who constantly taunted him because they believed his Human blood made him inferior and prone to the emotionalism of his mother’s species. Then, he had finally given in and demonstrated with violence, that they were, in fact correct. He would not, could not, make that same mistake again with Jim.

“If you're presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship, you are mistaken.”

“And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command. Did you see his ship? Do you see what he did?” Jim goaded him, his voice, sneering.

“Yes, of course I did.”

“So, are you afraid or aren't you?”

Spock swallowed, refusing to allow Jim’s words to affect him. He could control. He would control. “I will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion.”

“Then why don't you stop me,” Jim said, getting closer.

“Step away from me, Mister...”

“What’s it like not to feel anger or heartbreak or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?”

Spock’s heart-rate and respiration had increased by forty three percent, but he lacked the capacity, with his tenuous hold on his emotions, to regulate his body’s functions.

“Back away from me...” he hissed.

“You feel nothing! It must not even compute for you!” Spock saw the look in Jim’s eyes, the hurt and confusion that lurked there, as he spoke not just about the loss of his people, but what had occurred between them. Spock knew he had lost the battle when Jim added, “You never loved her!”

It wasn’t true. He did, though as a child he had grown up ashamed of his emotional weakness, his inability to be objective where his mother was concerned.

The fight was brief – Jim being no match for his Vulcan strength, fueled by an anger and grief so deep – as though his heart had been ripped from him and burnt to ashes – that he could scarcely begin to acknowledge it. A haze overtook him and any rationality left him until he heard his father’s voice as though from far off, calling his name, and he finally came to with his hand at Jim’s throat, the cadet flushed and gasping as he struggled to breathe.

The image overlaid another from four days earlier, when they were in bed and Jim was beneath him, having just achieved orgasm. The memory of it was a further blow, knocking the wind from him entirely.

“I am no longer fit for duty. I hereby relinquish my command, based on the fact that I have been emotionally compromised. Please note the time and date in the ship's log.”

As Spock walked the corridors, he could hear Jim’s voice, with no note of triumph, announcing they were turning around and heading to Earth to face Nero. A door opened in front of him and he stepped into the transporter room, the one he had materialized in without his mother. His steps had unconsciously brought him there.

In all his life, he had never felt such confusion, such lack of purpose. Neither had he ever felt such churning emotions, the primary one being an utter and bone-deep rage. As he analyzed it, he realized none of it was directed at Jim – he had simply been the instrument that had forced his emotions to the surface. All of him, every atom that comprised his being, hated Nero with such utter venom, it was almost overwhelming. For the first time in his life, with his control all but gone, his Vulcan emotions were getting free reign – never had he felt things so _deeply_.

The door opened and his father stepped inside. He had attempted, all his life, to be the person his father wished and he believed he had never really lived up to Sarek’s expectations. Now his father had witnessed the most humiliating moment of his life: his complete breakdown of control and his subsequent emotional outburst.

“Speak your mind, Spock,” he said gravely.

How could he possibly share what was going on within? He could not debase himself further in his father’s eyes. “That would be unwise,” he responded, honestly.

“What is necessary is never unwise.”

Sarek could not possibly know what he was asking of his son. However, his father had made a request – he would give him a hint of the roiling cauldron that simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to once again engulf him.

“I'm as conflicted as I once was as a child,” he said, simply.

“You will always be a child of two worlds. I am grateful for this. And for you.”

Spock stared at his father, the words like a soothing balm to his emotional wounds. Was he truly accepting of his Human heritage and how that molded him into the unique being he was? Was, in fact, lauding his diversity? It gave Spock the courage to speak, to admit what to Vulcans was an unforgivable breach of Surak’s principles.

“I feel anger for the one who took mother's life. An anger I cannot control.”

“I believe, as she would say, do not try to. You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her.”

After Sarek left, Spock crumpled, falling to his knees, as though all physical strength had left his body. If his father was capable of love, then logically he was capable of other feelings. It followed then, that all the emotions Spock occasionally had difficulty controlling were not the result of his hybrid nature – his Human heritage – but a natural consequence of being Vulcan.

He closed his eyes as another thought came to him. If Sarek had been capable of loving his mother, then logically the emotion he most closely associated with Jim, the one he had attempted to suppress for months, was very likely love.

He opened his eyes and stood. Such thoughts were unproductive: Jim was no longer a part of his life and though it made his chest ache with the knowledge of it – _love_ – he suppressed it.

He owed it to his mother’s memory to do everything possible to avenge her death and prevent the annihilation of her people – of the Human race. If Jim was pursuing Nero, he intended to play a part in that plan. While he knew it would be a suicide mission, he no longer had anything to lose and like George Kirk, he would consider it a win for those who survived.

He entered the bridge amidst a discussion on how to create a surprise element. Chekov’s idea was an excellent one, despite McCoy’s misgivings.

“Doctor, Mister Chekov is correct. I can confirm his telemetry. If Mister Sulu is able to maneuver us into position, I can beam aboard Nero's ship, steal back the black hole device, and if possible, bring back Captain Pike.”

Everyone had turned to him, but it was Jim whose piercing gaze he met.

“I won't allow you to do that, Mister Spock,” Jim said.

The hostility had left Jim’s eyes and now they were imploring. It appeared that despite his infidelity, he still held some feeling for Spock. However, he could not allow emotions to cloud Jim’s judgment.

“Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry. Our cultural similarities will make it easier for me to access the ship's computer to locate the device.” The argument was a logical one, but after everything that had taken place, he was willing to admit an emotional component too: “Also,” he added, his voice quieter, “my mother was Human, which makes Earth the only home I have left.”

He saw the decision on Jim’s face before he said the words, “I'm coming with you.”

He was unsurprised. It appeared that in one thing – when it came to rules – Jim could be entirely predictable. “I would cite regulation, but I know you will simply ignore it.”

Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “See, we’re getting to know each other.”

Spock was undecided whether he said that for the benefit of the bridge crew who were unaware of what they had been to one another, or whether there was some other, hidden meaning, but there was no time to fathom it now.

Uhura followed him into the transporter room, standing close, and he found himself holding her, desiring the last physical closeness he would likely experience in his life, refusing to wish it were Jim because that would be doing Nyota a disservice she didn’t merit.

When she unexpectedly hugged him in front of Jim and Mr. Scott, he allowed it – he literally had _nothing_ left to lose. To his right, he could feel Jim looking at him, eyes boring into him, and he gained no satisfaction from it.

The mission was a blur. Having drawn the _Narada_ away from Earth, he had one thing left to do – and that was to destroy Nero, utterly, to finish off what Jim’s father had tried to do. He would remain on the vessel to insure the Romulans’ demise.

“Ambassador Spock, you are on a collision course,” the on-board computer told him.”

He was aware. With all systems locked in, he had nothing left to do but to await his fiery end.

Sudden memories of his childhood surfaced, of times alone with his mother and the games they played, and with his father, trying to be a good Vulcan child and always feeling he had failed; the derision in the voices of the Science Academy Board as they condescendingly told him they would admit him despite his handicap; his graduation from the Academy and his first three successful missions and subsequent promotions; the experiments he had conducted and the papers he had written, helping to advance science; the occasional trips home, and the time he spent with his mother; those last minutes on Vulcan and the look of terror in her eyes as she fell… He closed his eyes as a pang hit him. He’d never told her he loved her, as he was now sure his father had. How ironic that a full Vulcan would best him, emotionally.

He thought about Jim. And Uhura. For Nyota he felt a kinship, a closeness that was unexpected. But for Jim, he knew now what it was he felt, because it was the same up-welling of emotion he felt when he thought of his mother: the emotion he had never been able to name was love. And it had shone brightly for a few short months, like a beacon, illuminating the gaps in his emotional control, as though defying it. Love that could take him to new and exhilarating heights, yet had the capacity, as now, to stab him with shards of pain, killing him slowly with the hurt and sorrow of what could not be.

“Incoming missiles,” the computer told him. “If the ship is hit, the red matter would be ignited.”

“Understood.”

And finally, as the gigantic hull of the _Narada_ filled his entire vision, an inner sense of peace descended upon him as he faced his death with equanimity.

 _I love you, Jim,_ was his last thought. _  
_  
+

Spock did not expect to be pulled from the _Jellyfish_ by a transporter beam. And neither did he expect to feel a profound and most un-Vulcan satisfaction as the _Narada_ was finally destroyed.

Exhausted, the Alpha shift finally went off-duty. Spock insured McCoy collected Jim and took him to sickbay to deal with his latest set of injuries while he returned to his quarters.

After resting for four hours, he headed to engineering to see if he could offer his services. With no warp capability, and impulse being 0.92 of light speed, it would take them seventeen point eight _years_ to return to Earth. Fortunately, a tug was on its way to them which would tow them at warp to the nearest repair base, which happened to be in the Sol system.

The following day, they found themselves surrounded by a veritable armada of ships, including much of the fleet that had been in the Laurentian system. While the crew stood to attention on the bridge, Admiral Archer ordered a ‘twenty one gun salute’ – which involved seven starships in a row each firing off a blank photorp three times – in honor of their victory. The image was beamed on viewscreens around the ship, and in sickbay McCoy set it up so Pike could watch it on a monitor. It had been Archer’s impromptu idea – he believed all the crew should feel proud of what they’d achieved.

The ships then left to travel the short distance to where Vulcan had been, in order to begin a rescue and salvage operation, while Scott worked with the tug crew to set up the tractor beam which would tow them home.

There was so much to do with the mop-up operation and damage repair, that everyone worked double shifts until their arrival at Earth Station McKinley. Consequently, Spock saw very little of Jim and when he did, the contents of conversations were strictly professional.

On arrival at Earth, the bridge crew were beamed directly to StarFleet HQ, where they were separated for a debrief which lasted, for him at least, three days. It was standard protocol to split them up so that accounts would less likely be cross-contaminated through discussions of events between members of the crew.

When it was over, Spock sat in the quarters he had been assigned and stared out the window across the bay, the late Spring sun high in an azure sky making the water sparkle, and catching the sails of small vessels that bobbed up and down in the slightly choppy water. To the left, close to the bridge, lay the remains of the drill where it had fallen, crumpled parts of it sticking out of the water like a colossal dead sea-monster.

This place – Earth – was all he had left, although that was strictly not true. He was aware his counterpart, the ambassador – who he had learned of at the end of his debrief – was already narrowing down options for a new colony for the survivors.

McCoy had informed him that Pike’s injuries were too severe to allow him to return to his command, so it was looking increasingly certain Jim would be allowed to keep the _Enterprise_ and Spock could not countenance the thought of serving under Jim after what they had shared and lost. It was logical therefore, that he resign from StarFleet and using his expertise, work to help his people set up their new home.

He sent a message to his father, requesting an audience and received a prompt response, asking him to meet him in Hangar One at sixteen hundred. The request caused an eyebrow raise – he’d expected a summons to the Vulcan Embassy.

He arrived promptly and looking around, spied a figure standing some distance away. As he approached he called, “Father.”

The person who turned to him was clearly not Sarek, but rather a Vulcan he didn’t recognize, much older in years.

“I am not our father. There are so few Vulcans left, we cannot afford to ignore each other.”

As soon as the words were uttered, he knew who this was. Staring at the face, he could see the similarities, though it was disconcerting to see himself as he would look over a hundred and twenty years from now.

He felt anger rise at the statement and didn’t bother to quell it. Thanks to the ambassador and his meddling, his colleagues had witnessed his shameful loss of control and many more had heard of the ‘bridge incident’ even if they were not witness to it.

“Then why did you send Kirk aboard, when you alone could have explained the truth?”

“Because, you needed each other. I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship, that would define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize.”

Whatever the ambassador might have said, he hadn’t expected that. Clearly he and his Kirk had shared a close bond – perhaps had also become lovers. Once he’d heard about his counterpart during the debriefing, he’d wondered why Jim had not mentioned him, concluding that the ambassador had sworn him to secrecy. Even so, he was curious to know the truth.

“How did you persuade him to keep your secret?

“He inferred that universe-ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise.”

The old man was devious. Was that what he was to become one day? “You lied,” he translated.

“Oh, I... I implied.”

“A gamble.”

“An act of faith. One I hope that you will repeat in the future at Starfleet.”

Although he had yet to resign his commission, the comment provided him with the opportunity to inform the ambassador of his decision. However, he didn’t intend to divulge the full reason.

“In the face of extinction, it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race.”

“And yet, you can be in two places at once,” he pointed out. “I urge you to remain in StarFleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony. Spock, in this case, do yourself a favor. Put aside logic. Do what _feels_ right. Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck.”

Twenty minutes later, he sat down in the quiet quadrangle that lay at the heart of the StarFleet Academy. Normally on a sunny day such as this, it was a place bustling with young, energetic people in their cadet reds; now it sat empty, himself a lone figure. With few of the senior year surviving, the remainder of the cadets had been given a hiatus of a month to come to terms with what had happened. So many senseless deaths – Starfleet’s youngest and brightest. His mother – his entire planet, gone.

_Do what feels right._

He no longer trusted his instinct where Jim was concerned – he had been convinced he had found his future bondmate and he’d apparently been wrong on that count. Logic was a far better method for making decisions.

He stood, feeling restless and unsettled, and made his way to his office. Sitting at his desk for the first time since his return, he switched on his console and found hundreds of messages in his academy mail account, mostly from news agencies requesting interviews, but also from colleagues sending their condolences. He scrolled quickly through the list and right at the very end, the earliest, was a message from Gaila, who had perished on the Farragut. Looking at the time-stamp, it was sent half an hour before Jim’s hearing.

Opening it up, he read it with a terrible sinking feeling.

_Hey Professor Spock!_

_Nyota just told me that when she came into the dorm last night and saw Jim there, she thought we were dating!! I said we weren’t, but she didn’t believe us because…well, I think you know we’ve both got reputations at the academy! Mine’s well deserved, because I am Orion after all, but Jim’s isn’t! We’ve been friends forever – he started out tutoring me for some of my computer sciences classes. He told me a few weeks back that he’d started dating you, and when Nyota said she’d gone to you after she came into the dorm and found Jim sitting on my bed (and we were both fully clothed, I have to tell you!) I figured she might say something and you’d think he was cheating! But he’s not – he’s totally faithful to you…actually, he’s totally in love with you (but don’t tell him I said that or he’ll kill me!!). But I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between you! And I couldn’t say anything to Nyota because she doesn’t know about you and Jim, but I think you should tell her! So this is me, Gaila, setting the record straight!!!  
_  
Spock stared at the console and lost track of time. He thought back to the way he had treated Jim, the things he’d said in the hearing about his father, his entire demeanor since Nyota had come into his office, and all that time, Jim had been innocent and would not have understood his change in behavior towards him. The damage was done and it was highly unlikely Jim would take him back after all he’d put him through.

He would have to track Jim down so he could apologize to him and explain himself. He owed Jim that much. But first, he wished to find Nyota and make it clear to her that he did not want a romantic relationship with her.

+

They met in a coffee-shop close to the campus, Uhura arriving three minutes after him. She was wearing her cadet reds, he noticed. Technically, her class had two months before official graduation, though after all they had been through, he wondered whether the Academy would still insist they complete their coursework. In a few short days, they had learned more than any lesson in a classroom could ever teach. They had discovered the reality of life ‘in the black’. Some had thrived, others were requiring counseling, but to his knowledge, only three cadets had been too traumatized to continue their career and were to be given honorable discharges. A number of cadets, he knew, had switched their preference to a ground posting and only one, he was aware of – Dr. McCoy – had altered his assignment from a ground posting to a starship, ‘because someone has to keep that damn-fool kid from killing himself’, he had told Spock when they were being towed home. The proviso there was that he and Jim would be posted together.

“Hi,” she said to him on entering, smiling brightly as she sat down at his table.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Nyota.”

Her smile faded a little. “Is everything okay?” She shook her head. “Stupid question, I mean…” she trailed off as she sought to find the most tactful words. He marveled at Nyota’s ability to read him so well, as few Humans could.

“All is as well as can be expected,” he reassured her.

Spock waited until after they’d ordered their beverages before continuing. “Upon my return, I discovered a message from Gaila, sent to my academic account on the day of the hearing.”

“Oh,” she said, a sad expression crossing her face at the mention of her roommate. “Was there something in the message you wanted to share with me?”

Uhura had always been astute and knew he would only bring up a topic in conversation for a reason. “She sought to reassure me that she and Jim were not in a romantic relationship.”

“Why would she—?” Dawning comprehension crossed her face and Spock could see her eyes become glassy with unshed tears. “You…and Kirk?” she confirmed, hesitantly.

“We were romantically involved at that time.”

“At that time?” she repeated in a quiet voice. “So when I told you… oh God Spock,” she looked down at her lap, as though she was unable to look him in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I thought when I saw them together – I mean they weren’t actually doing anything, just sitting, chatting, but I just figured…” She looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears, and sniffed. Then she closed her eyes as if it would help her remember. “I’d just picked up that transmission from the Klingons and I was so excited. I got back to our room and Kirk were there with her. So I told them what I’d seen and then he said, ‘Hey while you’re here, why don’t we make it a threesome!’ which was the typical kind of douchey thing he would say, so I just got pissed and left.”

“Do not blame yourself, Nyota. I listened to your words without seeking further evidence. I never asked him.”

A waiter brought them their drinks and Spock took a sip of his herbal tea. Uhura left her espresso untouched. “Have you spoken to Kirk yet?” she wanted to know.

“I have not. I do not expect him to forgive me. I wished to tell you – I believe you have pursued me in order to…” he paused, seeking the correct words.

“…get you to date me,” she finished. “Yeah, I have. I like you a lot, Spock. I think you know that. But…?”

“But, while I hold you in high regard, I do not desire a romantic involvement between us. I would, however, be greatly honored if you would consent to be a friend.”

She nodded, apparently already resigned to his statement. “You’re staying on the _Enterprise_ , right?” she asked.

“I believe it unlikely.”

“Oh.”

They drank in silence for a while. “Kirk’s become quite the celebrity,” Uhura said after a while.

“StarFleet is attempting to offset the negative publicity surrounding the deaths of so many cadets by making Jim the savior of Earth.” He’d watched as StarFleet’s publicity arm had paraded Jim – in full captain’s uniform – for the past week.

Uhura winced. “That’s quite a cynical view.”

“I think it an accurate one,” he countered. “If not for the destruction of Vulcan, I believe they would have me undertaking similar duties. However, given the circumstances, it would appear crass and insensitive. They also seem to have drawn the same line with Captain Pike.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. You think they’ll let Jim keep his rank?”

“Unknown. While there is no precedent for a cadet to have the rank of captain conferred on graduation, StarFleet is a law unto itself...”

“So anything’s possible?” Uhura added.

“Indeed.”

“Given the way they’ve built him up, it wouldn’t look good if they didn’t. They’ll probably give him some garbage scow to captain.”

“I understand from McCoy, Pike will be unable to resume his command of _Enterprise_ due to his injuries.”

Uhura’s eyes widened. “You think they’ll give Kirk the _Enterprise_?” she asked, a tone of disbelief in her voice. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

Spock didn’t understand why Jim continually allowed people to underestimate his abilities, and even Nyota, who had come to know him over the past academic year, still appeared to believe Jim had vanquished the greatest threat Earth had ever seen, by sheer fluke.

“I have no concrete data on which to base a hypothesis, however Jim and the _Enterprise_ are inextricably linked in the eyes of all Terrans. StarFleet sustained heavy losses and is in need of a positive role model in order to successfully recruit the high caliber cadets it needs. Therefore I believe there is a seventy three point two percent probability that he will be given the _Enterprise_.”

“Well good luck to his crew is all I can say.”

“Nyota, your prejudice is unjustified.”

Uhura looked surprised. “And I think you’re biased.”

“Perhaps you should take time to look over Jim’s academic record – he is one of the most exceptional cadets StarFleet has ever recruited. I believe he would make a highly competent captain.”

“But you two fought—”

“—And Jim’s plan proved to be the correct course of action. Had I remained in command, Earth would have followed Vulcan’s fate and other Federation planets would also have been threatened.”

Uhura closed her eyes and shook her head. “There’s a part of me still can’t believe that happened.”

“Although illogical, since I saw the destruction with my own eyes, there is also a part of me that is unbelieving. The magnitude of it is, at times…” he swallowed past a lump in his throat, “…overwhelming.”

“I really like you, Spock,” Uhura said, tactfully changing the subject, “and while I’ve heard you, I still have big issues with Kirk; but there’s only so much comfort I can give you and… I can’t believe I’m saying this because God knows I’m no saint, but send him a message now – you need to talk to him. You _need_ him.”

Spock agreed with her, but he was unconvinced that Jim would have anything to do with him. However, at the very least, he owed Jim an explanation for his withdrawal and general demeanor over the last thirteen days. Taking out his communicator, he sent a text message requesting a meeting.

A message pinged back almost immediately.

_‘Am on the Enterprise going over the repairs that need doing with the McKinley engineering team. We can meet here – let me know a time and I’ll arrange a beam-up.’_

Spock frowned at the message.

“Something wrong?” Uhura asked.

He looked up and saw Uhura’s concerned face. “Jim is involved in the repairs on the ship. It is not his job, as First Officer, I—”

“Spock,” Uhura interrupted gently, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “He’s not doing it because he _has_ to. More than likely, it’s his way of escaping the media circus.”

He realized she was in all likelihood correct, and nodded.

Twenty five minutes later, he was standing at the StarFleet transporter facility. He had allowed Uhura to hug him as they had said goodbye, and had promised he would keep her updated on his final decision.

“Permission to beam on board, sir,” Spock said quietly into his communicator.

“Permission granted, commander. Meet me on the bridge.”


	3. Chapter 3

The transporter room was manned by a McKinley technician who was standing to attention as he materialized. With a nod at her, he exited the room and made his way to the nearby turbolift that would take him up to Jim.

Spock was aware of the existence of an emotion called ‘trepidation’ and in what circumstances it might be felt, but it was the first time he had ever experienced it for himself. Not even after his fight at school, when his father had come to speak to him, had he felt any such thing.

Taking a deep breath, he brought himself control, banishing the emotion until he felt nothing and could view the situation objectively. He would apologize to Jim and explain himself. In all likelihood, Jim would have a negative emotional reaction and Spock would accept responsibility for the things he’d said and done, after which time he would take his leave and more than likely, would not see Jim again.

When the lift doors opened on the bridge, Spock was surprised to find several engineers working at various consoles and what looked like Jim’s legs sticking out from underneath the science station.

His arrival was largely ignored and for a moment, he was unsure what to do.

“Can someone pass me the phase compensator?” Jim asked. “I think it’s on the chair.”

Spock stepped forward and handed it to Jim’s waving hand.

“Thanks. Damn. Uh….is the beam cutter there?”

Spock dutifully passed him the tool and stared at the lower half of Jim’s body – only his hips to feet visible. Jim appeared to know what he was doing, or at least attempting to do and Spock found himself surprised, unaware of Jim’s engineering interest. He knew that behind the concealing panel lay a mass of circuitry, relays and wiring that would look bewilderingly complicated to the untrained eye.

His mind was drawn back to Jim, from where a tap-tapping noise was emanating. “Almost done…. There.” With that, he wriggled out and looked up, surprised to see Spock standing there. Jim was wearing the black undershirt and trousers he had worn during the _Narada_ crisis, rather than his cadet uniform and Spock thought it befitted his halfway status since he was no longer merely a cadet nor yet officially a line officer.

“You been there long?” he asked.

“Six point three minutes. May I ask what it is you are you working on?”

“When we were approaching Vulcan, you remember we couldn’t get the sensors to work – Nero had found a way to scramble the signal, but not make it look scrambled.”

“Indeed, the sensors misread the signals, interpreting the blocking device as general interference.”

“Right. And standard procedure: the whole time we were in battle, our sensors were taking continuous scans of the _Narada_. You know that right about when the _Jellyfish_ impacted, just about all their systems which were cloaked suddenly showed up, so we were scanning them right up until the _Narada_ imploded and got pulled over the black hole’s event horizon. On our way back to Earth, I took a look at some of that raw data to see if I could make any sense of it. It’s only an approximation, but from what I could see of their sensor deflector technology, I figured a way to recalibrate our sensor algorithms.”

A part of Spock was shamed that he was unaware Jim had been working on the sensor logs when they had been estranged, and another was impressed at the manner in which Jim had analyzed the data and devised a potential solution. “You believe it is possible to improve on our current duophasic sweeping system?”

“And then some! There was a thirty two second window when we got to see the technology of the future. From the readings we got, I’m reconfiguring the sensors’ bandwidth. If I’m right, we’ll be able to carry out multiphasic sweeps which will be able to penetrate the kind of areas of intense interference the _Narada_ was putting out, as well as those times when we encounter the presence of strong electromagnetic radiation.”

Jim’s enthusiasm and excitement were clear, and Spock understood why. He’d discovered early on in his acquaintance with Jim, during their chess games, his penchant for solving problems – often in ways that wouldn’t occur to him with his more favored systematic and logical approach. “Fascinating,” Spock acknowledged.

Jim smiled – the first time he had done so since the academic hearing. “You know what’s fascinating, Spock? The types of sensors they were using were magnetron scanners; if we can replicate them, they’ll be more thorough than anything that exists today – they can even detect cloaked ships. We should have enough information to reverse engineer one in the next couple of years.” Jim paused, his face growing serious. “It would be the kind of project that’s right up your street, Spock” he quietly added.

Spock was about to tell Jim that he had decided to resign his commission when the three engineers working on the bridge approached. “We’re just about done here for the day, Captain,” one of them said. “See you tomorrow?”

Jim smiled. “Duties permitting, Ralph. I want to run some tests on the new system to see if it actually works – better have someone standing by with a fire extinguisher in case I screwed up!”

Ralph laughed. “Thanks for the warning. Captain, Commander,” he nodded at Spock. And with that, they left and the bridge suddenly felt strangely empty.

“Jim, I owe you an apology.”

A shadow fell over Jim’s face. “Don’t,” he said and turned away, gathering together the tools he’d been using.

The cheerfulness with which he’d been greeted evaporated, the false bonhomie that Spock had not realized until recently was Jim’s way of masking the times when he felt vulnerable or uncertain, falling away to reveal the ‘real’ Jim. Although, Spock acknowledged, it could be yet another layer to mask something even deeper – and who knew how many layers there were to this complex being who’d been his short-term lover?

“I must say it, Jim.”

“Wait. Computer, shut down all recording devices, override authorization code Kirk Juliet Tango Kilo Nine Three Seven Foxtrot Oscar.”

It was a logical precaution, Spock realized, given this was a private discussion.

“Authorization code acknowledged, devices shut down.”

“Okay,” Jim said, apparently satisfied that what they were about to discuss would literally be ‘off the record’. “So tell me what exactly you’re apologizing for.” He held his hand up ready to count the issues off on his fingers. “Acting like a dick – so I was suddenly persona non grata? Like what we had together had never happened? Or failing to mention you programmed the Kobayashi Maru test? Or dragging my dad’s name into an argument I still can’t believe we had, in front of…what…five? six hundred people, including most of StarFleet’s top brass?” There was a steady crescendo in Jim’s voice as he unleashed his anger. “Or how about you taking up with Uhura and not even bothering to hide it from me? Or what about that stunt you pulled on the _Jellyfish_?” By now, Jim’s face was flushed and his voice had elevated to almost a shout. “Why the hell didn’t you call for beam-out? If Scotty wasn’t the fucking genius he is, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you now.”

“Jim!” Spock interrupted sharply. “Cease this!” He had no idea Jim had been suppressing so much, and it seemed his attempt to apologize had lifted the lid off a boiling cauldron of emotion. It was likely that Jim’s adrenal system had released a sufficient quantity of epinephrine to produce what humans referred to as the fight or flight syndrome. The condition was known to interfere with the higher faculties that would allow Jim to remain objective and maintain perspective.

“What’s wrong Spock?” Jim demanded to know, stepping closer to Spock, crowding him, confirming his hypothesis. “You have a problem with me getting emotional?”

Spock swallowed, uncomfortably reminded of his confrontation with Jim on the bridge during the _Narada_ battle.

“No,” he said quietly, quashing a need to step back from Jim. 

“Good, because I’m fucking angry and right now and I have no intention of holding back.”

“I understand,” Spock responded, wishing to avoid an escalation of the situation.

“No you don’t!” Jim shouted at him. “You don’t have one fucking clue what I’ve been through,” he added, poking his finger at Spock’s chest. “I don’t even know what it is I said or did that you just turned your back on me and took up with Uhura, because you never had the balls to tell me.”

Jim’s face was now only inches from Spock’s, and it took a degree of control for him not to flinch. He was also quelling a desire to take Jim into his arms and kiss him until all the anger was gone. He found himself unable to hold the gaze of the man he had inadvertently hurt. Instead, he looked at a point over Jim’s shoulder as he continued.

“You spent the evening before your Kobayashi Maru test with Gaila,” he began, but Jim jumped in, his blue eyes flashing.

“The only way you could know is because Uhura told you, and let me guess, she told you we were making out.”

Spock was unsure why he was surprised Jim had made the connection so quickly when he had had more than sufficient evidence of his exceptional intelligence from countless prior occasions.

“Given her perception of both you and Gaila, she believed your being together would lead to sexual congress.”

“And you fucking believed her!” Jim shouted, and suddenly turned away as if he didn’t want Spock to see how this was affecting him; but his body gave away the clues, radiating tension, his hands balled into fists at his side.

“Uhura was inexact in her description of finding you together – her words led me to believe she had discovered you both in bed.”

Jim spun back to face him. “You think that little of me, that the first opportunity I get, I’d go fuck someone else behind your back?”

Spock closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them and looked at Jim, all he could see was the hurt. “I apologize for my erroneous assumption.”

“So that’s why you reported me to the board,” Jim spat. “You were pissed and you wanted your pound of flesh.”

Spock found himself unable to deny it. He had acted in a moment of irrationality. While he continued to believe Jim actions constituted cheating, in other circumstances he would likely have brought the matter to Captain Pike and allowed him to decide an appropriate course of action.

“As a scientist, and as a logical being, I look for evidence to support my hypotheses. Jumping to conclusions was, until recently, unknown to me. However, an unexpected emotional component caused me to react without investigating whether I was in possession of all facts. I may have…overreacted.”

“Some overreaction! You nearly got me dismissed from the fucking service.”

There was nothing Spock could say in his defense. “With your victory over Nero, the disciplinary board will no doubt confer upon you a medal of commendation for original thinking.”

“And the thought of that pisses you off,” Kirk sneered.

“It is what it is,” Spock said simply. “I also wish to make it clear to you that I did not, as you say, take up with Nyota.”

“Yeah? So the way you were holding onto each other when we were about to beam over to the _Narada_ was just a friendly way to say goodbye.”

“After the loss of my mother and my planet, she offered me comfort and I accepted it. I can assure you there has been no intimacy between us.”

“Right,” Jim said, looking at the floor.

“Jim, I have made it clear to Nyota that I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her, although I would value her friendship. It is you I wish to be with.” Spock hadn’t intended to say those last words; he knew he was experiencing an emotional reaction to Jim and it was apparently affecting the filter he normally strictly maintained between thought and speech.

Jim’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think saying ‘sorry I fucked up’ will make it all better? Well, think again.”

Even though Spock had not come here expecting Jim to be willing to take him back, he experienced an unexpectedly strong physical sensation as though he had been punched in the stomach. “I see,” he said quietly, and turning away from Jim, he closed his eyes momentarily and took a long, steadying breath. With a heavy heart, he walked towards the turbolift.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Jim demanded.

“There is nothing further to say.” Spock suddenly wanted to put as much distance between himself and Jim as he could, illogical though the desire was. A moment later, just as he stepped within sensor range of the lift door which opened to admit him, he heard Jim’s footsteps and then he felt his arm gripped in an attempt to halt his escape. To a Vulcan, a Human’s strength is no more than that of a ten year old child, so it would have been very easy to shake Jim off. Instead, a small ember of hope deep inside Spock flared and he allowed himself to be turned to face Jim.

For a moment, Jim’s face showed a degree of vulnerability Spock had never seen, before it morphed into determination. Uncertain of the situation, he waited for Jim to speak.

Instead, Jim used his whole body to suddenly propel Spock hard against the bulkhead beside the turbolift, the element of surprise causing him to impact heavily, forcing breath from his lungs in a quiet huff. Jim swiftly followed and pressed himself against Spock a moment before his firm hands gripped Spock’s face and his mouth was taken in a hard, twisting kiss which he gratefully reciprocated. While it was, to Spock, a step in the right direction, this intimacy felt qualitatively different to their previous contacts, being almost forceful with an edge of desperation.  
With skin contact came Jim’s turbulent emotions, rolling off him and assaulting Spock’s psyonic defenses. The strength of feeling was such that they diffused through his shields like flour in a sieve. Anger remained the strongest, but he was able to discern hurt, disappointment, sadness, frustration and resentment; yet tied in with those negative emotions, he also detected relief, hope and the depth of Jim's love for him, which for the past two weeks he'd not allowed himself to think about.  
Spock acknowledged his own sense of relief that Jim wasn’t going to push him away and turn his back on him, though he had no idea where this encounter would eventually lead.

Still kissing him deeply, Jim shifted his hips, pushing his knee between Spock’s legs. As a result of the change in position, he felt Jim’s erection pressed against his pelvis and he was unable to prevent his own response. He moved his own hands from where they’d been gripping Jim’s upper arms, to slide down the long back and grip his ass, pulling Jim even more snugly against him.

One of Jim’s hands left his face and slipped under his shirts, fingers skimming his skin and causing his stomach to jump involuntarily at the light contact. The fingers continued their movement up and suddenly his left nipple was assaulted, twisted and pulled hard. It caused a jolt to course through him like a quake, the epicenter at his groin making his cock jump and he gasped at the sensation.

Jim pulled away from the kiss, his eyes glinting like steel. “Tell me you’re going to stay with me, Spock,” he said and gave another hard twist of the nipple.

Spock had been so convinced Jim wouldn’t want him that he hadn’t considered any dialogue beyond the apology he wished to deliver.

_Do what feels right._

What felt right was to say…

“Yes. I will stay with you.”

Jim’s smile in response was almost feral as he made yet another twist of Spock’s nipple and he only noticed Jim had managed to insinuate his other hand between them when he squeezed the top of Spock’s achingly hard shaft a little too hard, making him gasp at the strong sensation.

“Pike’s told me the _Enterprise_ is as good as mine. So you’ll be her First Officer.”

“Yes.”

“And from now on you’ll trust me and talk to me if you’ve got any concerns?”

“I will.” The dam of Spock’s control had been weakening as his arousal increased and it suddenly gave way as with a growl, he employed his full strength to pick Jim up with the ease of a parent lifting a child, and threw him over his shoulder.

Jim yelped and then laughed as Spock strode around the back of the bridge, passing his station before stepping through the upper railing and over to the Captain’s chair where he unceremoniously dumped Jim.

“Fuck!” Jim shouted as he landed heavily.

Spock knelt between Jim’s splayed legs and made quick work of his fly, pulling out his prize and swallowing it to its root and then slowly pulling his lips up the length, leaving it glistening with his saliva. It had been two weeks since they had last shared any intimacy and in that time, Spock hadn’t allowed himself to miss this contact.

Small pearls formed at the tip of Jim’s cock which Spock licked off, barely touching the swollen flesh. As the tangy taste of Jim spread across his tongue, his nostrils filled with the scent of Jim’s musk and he breathed out an almost silent sigh of carnal appreciation.

Spock’s mouth and tongue worked the length of Jim’s shaft, his eidetic memory providing him with the details of all the places and actions Jim reacted most favorably to. The tenor of the emotions he was sensing from Jim had changed and narrowed down to excitement, elation and lust.

“God, yes!” Jim hissed as his back arched at the sensations, grabbing the back of Spock’s head and putting his right leg over Spock’s shoulder to hold him in place. “Love it when you suck on my cock.”

Using his left hand Spock managed to release his own aching arousal, taking the shaft firmly in his fist and caressing it in blissful pleasure, the action setting him ablaze with flames of desire.

As Spock’s head bobbed up and down the length, Jim used the one foot he still had on the deck to lever himself upward. Having no gag reflex, Spock had little difficulty taking in Jim’s entire length as he thrust enthusiastically into Spock’s willing mouth. Looking up, he could see Jim’s head was resting on the back of the chair, his eyes closed, his face flushed, his mouth open as his breath emerged in small gasps.

Sensing Jim was close, Spock pulled off the head of his cock with a loud, wet pop.

“Don’t fucking stop!” Jim moaned

Spock’s eyebrow raised at the command. “On the contrary,” he said, pulling Jim’s trousers and briefs down to his knees, “the fucking is about to commence.”

Knowing the degree of his flexibility, Spock pushed Jim’s legs up and against his chest, so that he was neatly folded in half and his ass was fully exposed, well-illuminated by the bright lights of the bridge. Jim lifted his shirt up and out of the way, revealing rippling abs that were working hard to keep his legs in position.

Leaning down, Spock attacked Jim’s balls with his tongue, sucking each one into his mouth and gently rolling it around, making Jim’s cock jump and eliciting a quiet gasp. The scent of Jim was strongest here and closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, reveling in the musky, intoxicating aroma.

Letting it go, he moved his mouth slowly over Jim’s perineum, pressing with his lips and tongue as he moved inexorably downward until he reached the tight pucker of muscle and licked at it avidly.

Above him, Jim groaned and his head thudded against the back rest. “Fuck! That is so hot, Spock.”

He used his tongue to loosen the muscle, pressing against it until it quivered and opened, beckoning him in. Satisfied Jim was sufficiently prepared, he ran his hand along his own cock, ensuring the natural lubrication was evenly distributed along the length. Then leaning on the arms of the chair, he stretched his legs out behind himself to ensure optimal height and angle of entry and pressed himself against the loosened muscle, watching as Jim bore down to assist his entry.

The sight of his cock slowly sliding into Jim, joining them together, almost undid him. Pausing, he took a deep, controlling breath and then pressed again until he was buried all the way. Then balancing on his hands as they gripped the armrests, he pulled back and slowly thrust back in, causing Jim to issue a low groan of approval.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jim hissed through clenched teeth. “Just like that.”

Spock rotated his hips to feel the sides of the rectum he was fucking, relishing the way his cock was gripped by the tight muscle as he began an unhurried rocking. Jim took his own cock into hand and was manipulating it to the same rhythm just as their eyes met and held.

 _The eyes are the window of the soul_ was an old Earth proverb Spock was familiar with, but in that moment, he really did feel as though he could see inside Jim without the need for a meld, going beyond the layers of obfuscation Jim had spent most of his life throwing up in a bid to prevent people really knowing him.

He closed his eyes and plunged deeply into Jim’s heated core, as though he could merge their bodies together. Jim’s hand suddenly sped up, working his cock fast and frantically, liquid pearls of pre-come revealed at each down-stroke, his breath coming in urgent gasps as droplets of sweat rolled down the sides of his face and neck.

Spock took note of the picture before him of the likely captain-to-be of the _Enterprise_ looking flushed and debauched, impaled on his command chair. The thought was interrupted by Jim.

“Gonna come,” he warned and then let out a lush groan as his cock exploded, throwing ropes of come across his abdomen and chest. The erotic sight inflamed Spock as he felt his shaft gripped in staccato spasms, pushing him over the edge into the fiery culmination of a white-hot release.

As he carefully withdrew from Jim, Spock fought to bring his labored breathing under control. With a grunt, Jim carefully lowered his legs and grinned up at Spock.

“So, we’ve christened the Captain’s chair.”

“Indeed,” Spock said, allowing a small smile as he carefully tucked himself away.

“If I get this ship—”

“—When you get this ship,” Spock corrected.

“Is it certain? Do you know something I don’t?”

“No more than you. However, you are aware it is unlikely at this stage that StarFleet will pass you over for another – I believe it would be a most unpopular move.”

“So, _when_ I get this ship, every time I sit in this chair, I’m gonna get a hard-on by association.”

“Most unfortunate,” Spock murmured, looking at Jim’s semen-streaked skin. Leaning down, he began to lick leisurely at the trails, appreciating the tangy-salty flavor that was uniquely Jim.

“Fuck, Spock, you’re not helping.”

Spock ignored him until he had completed his task, then leaned in to kiss Jim, his tongue plundering the desirable mouth, dancing with its counterpart until they were both breathless.

“Still not helping,” Jim gasped, his lips pink and kiss-swollen.

With great apparent effort, Jim pushed himself to his feet, gravity making his shirt drop back down as he pulled up his trousers. When he looked up again, his face had become serious.

“Fuck Spock. I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” Jim whispered as he took the two steps necessary to bring him body to body with Spock, hugging him. Spock slowly lifted his arms, embracing Jim back, his forehead falling onto Jim’s shoulder.

He was reminded of the time of his kahs-wan – his coming-of-age ritual – when, at the age of seven, he had spent five days surviving in the desert. After facing mortal danger and abject loneliness he returned to the safety of his home and his mother’s relieved embrace.

Spock pulled away to look into Jim’s eyes. “You have forgiven me my transgressions?”

“No, not yet,” Jim admitted. “I’m still majorly pissed with you and we’ll need to talk about it. But I don’t want to lose you; I don’t want to lose what we have – it’s too precious.”

He thought of his counterpart’s words: _Do what feels right._

He had allowed his emotions to color his judgment to the detriment of all concerned, yet an older version of him was urging him to make yet another decision based on emotion and not logic.

Spock closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of Jim, felt the warm body pressed close to his, the comfort of his embrace, allowed the strong emotion he had experienced in relation to Jim to surface, and in that moment he knew incontrovertibly that _this_ was what felt right; this was where he was meant to be. He knew he would follow Jim anywhere, knew he never wanted to leave his side, that Jim would make his ideal bondmate.

Jim pulled back from their embrace, a bright smile lighting his face, and the sight of it and the twinkling blue eyes filled with love made Spock’s breath catch.

“Having you _and_ Bones with me is going to be awesome.”

It was not what he wanted to hear. “I find the doctor to be overly emotional, with a predilection for irrelevancy. The notion of spending the next five years in close quarters with him is _not_ an incentive to remain.”

Jim grinned. “How about if I agree to be your sex slave?” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Spock’s.

Since Spock’s mouth was now otherwise engaged and he was therefore unable to respond, he decided now was a good time to employ another old Earth proverb, _Actions speak louder than words_ , and applied it with due diligence. 

[finis]


End file.
